


wanderlust led me home to you

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: i'm falling for your eyes (but they don't know me yet) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, it's soft and sweet i promise, plants are mentioned enough to warrant a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a tall, dark stranger walks into Koutarou's shop one day, he was in no way prepared for his entire life to be changed at a glimpse of those breathtaking grey-green eyes.</p><p>in which bokuto fiddles with a music box that makes no sound, akaashi is a plant person, and some secrets must be revealed sooner or later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanderlust led me home to you

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time working on such a big project like this, it was stressful but it was nice!! i'm glad i managed to finish this at all, tbh. 
> 
> all the thanks to my wonderful beta, [@risquetendencies](http://risquetendencies.tumblr.com/), and my artists, [@fake-plant](http://fake-plant.tumblr.com/) and [@milojames](http://milojames.tumblr.com/)!! 
> 
> magic au more like watch me make up the rules as i go, ahahaha  
> see if u can catch all the other characters and their magics~  
> pls enjoy

The door chimes as Koutarou is wobbling on top of a stepladder, trying to reach the top shelf. He's humming to himself, a song he's sure he's heard Konoha playing these last few evenings when he stopped at the tavern, so he doesn't immediately notice the person waiting at the counter. Koutarou reaches the climax of the song, humming obnoxiously loud and almost falling off the ladder as he dances slightly to the wordless tune. He finds the box of tools he's looking for, and turns to climb down to the ground, but then he catches something dark out of the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me," the person says.

Koutarou jolts, turning his head to find a dark-haired stranger dressed in heavy travelling cloaks standing at the counter. Grey eyes stare up at him expectantly, while pale fingers clutch at a square package. He looks travel-worn, weary, and slightly dirty, but Koutarou has never seen anybody that possessed more beautiful eyes.

"Are you... Bokuto-san?" the stranger asks when they've stared at each other long enough. "The Tinkerer?"

"Ah!" yelps Koutarou, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he looks in comparison, with his sloppy work clothes and wild hair that he forgot to gel up this morning, not to mention the crumbs from his lunch he can feel dotting his mouth. "Yes! Yes, that is---I am---he's me---I'm Bokuto!" he shouts, a little too loudly considering the way the stranger flinches back, but Koutarou doesn't get the chance to apologise because the next thing he knows he's tumbling off the stepladder and landing in a heap on the floor, the toolbox bouncing off his head.

Koutarou groans. Why does this have to happen when there's a beautiful stranger standing in his shop? This is so disgraceful. If Kuroo was here, he'd be busting a gut laughing at him, Koutarou knows it.

"Um," he hears from above him. The stranger is peering over the counter with concern knitting his brows. "Are you okay... Bokuto-san?"

Shaking off random screws and bolts that landed in his hair, Koutarou springs back up. He flashes a smile. "I'm fine! Great! Just jolly!" He clears his throat, trying to channel the smoothness that Kuroo is always trying to teach him. "Hi there, welcome to Bokuto’s Tinker Shop! What can I do for you, sir?"

"Ah. Just Akaashi is fine."

Koutarou smiles. Akaashi. It suits him. "What can I help you with today, Akaashi?"

"I heard that you were the best Tinkerer in town---"

"The best and the only!" Koutarou puffs up his chest.

"I was wondering if you could fix this." Akaashi raises his hands and places the carefully wrapped package on the counter. "It's a very precious possession of mine."

Curious, Koutarou peels back the purple silk-like cloth, revealing a beautifully crafted music box. He gasps. The wood is rare, and the workmanship absolutely flawless. It looks like a dream. Koutarou is almost scared to touch it for fear of breaking it with his large hands. The top opens to display a pair of tiny owls, sitting next to each other above a round translucent disc. Through the glass, Koutarou can see the fine details of the clockwork and spinner that makes the box tick. The parts are small but high quality, prompting Koutarou to guess this box was made years and years ago.

He glances up, a question on his face, and Akaashi nods. Gently, as if dealing with a newborn babe, Koutarou picks up the box. He turns the little knob at the bottom, excited to hear what amazing sound the treasure will give him, letting go and sitting back, but---

Silence.

The knob is spinning, the owls chasing each other around the disc, yet there is no sound. Koutarou frowns, squinting through the disc, but as far as he can tell, the parts are all turning correctly. He turns the knob again, lifting the box and peering inside and outside, but there is still no sound.

Koutarou almost cries. The most beautiful music box he has ever laid eyes on, and it produces no sound.

"It's been like that since it's been in my possession." Akaashi's soft voice calls Koutarou's gaze away from the handmade enigma. He's looking down at the music box, a distant expression on his face. "I've asked many others, but they all say there's nothing wrong with it physically. I'm hoping that you, as a Tinkerer, might be able to tell me why it won't play music anymore, at least."

"You've come to the right place!" Koutarou sets the music box down carefully, before standing straight and beaming at Akaashi. "This place might not look like much, but trust me, I'm good at what I do! I can fix anything and everything, guaranteed! I'm the best Tinkerer in Karasuno!"

Akaashi blinks. Then, Koutarou can swear it on the grave of the old gramps that took him in during the bad years after the war----gods bless his soul----but there is definitely a small smile tugging on the other man's lips. "I thought you said you were the only Tinkerer in this town?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't be the best!" Koutarou tilts his head. "Are you just travelling through? Karasuno is small enough that everyone knows everyone’s grandmother, and I've never seen you before. Are you planning to stay for a while?"

Akaashi nods. "I've arranged to stay at Sugawara-san's for now. I'm to be his apprentice in return for a room."

"You're a healer?!"

"No, Bokuto-san. Just a herbalist."

"Oh. That's still pretty amazing, Akaashi."

"Thank you." Akaashi glances back down at the music box. "Do you know how long you will need? I can pay you in gold."

"Ah, no, it's fine!" Koutarou waves his arms when he catches the strange look Akaashi gives him at his quick reply. "I mean, I usually don't take payment until after I do my, uh, haha, my magic? Though Tinkering is more of a skill than magic----Anyway, let me see what I can do with this first, and then we'll figure out the payment? It might take me a few days to figure out what's wrong, and then maybe another week or so to fix it."

"I see." Akaashi takes out an old pocket watch, clicking it open. "I'd better go, Sugawara-san is expecting me back soon."

"Right! Don't worry, I'll take great care of your music box!"

Akaashi nods, bowing slightly before turning towards the doors once more. Just as his hand touches the handle, he pauses. He turns and catches Koutarou's eye. "Bokuto-san," he says. "Is it alright if I drop by again, to watch you work?"

Koutarou blinks. A smile unfurls across his face. "Yeah! Anytime!"

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

"Ahhhh, holy goddesses, I can't believe he saw me like that," moans Koutarou, rubbing his head against the table. His hair slides from side to side with his movement, gaining friction and starting to frizz. "I fell down and everything... My hair was so terrible today..."

"Okay, Bo, but please get your dirty head away from our table. People eat here, you know."

Koutarou huffs. "Excuse you, I wash my hair everyday! It's clean and beautiful! Unlike yours, yours is like a disgruntled rat's nest."

"You come under my roof, eat my food, and you dare insult my hair---Kenma, tell Bokuto he's rude and impossible."

"Koutarou, you're rude and impossible."

Kuroo cheers while Bokuto sulks, at least until Kenma, placing a platter of bread fresh out of the oven on the table, shuts them both up by saying, "You're both rude and impossible."

"Kenma, you're supposed to be on my side!"

"You don't pay me enough to buy my loyalty."

Kuroo squints at the shorter man. "I don't pay you at all."

They settle around the table in Kuroo and Kenma's bakery, breaking open the bread and digging in gratefully. For how shady his friend looks and his tendency to study strange magic not approved by the state, Koutarou has to admit that Kuroo knows his way around an oven. He closes his eyes, savouring the way the bread practically melts on his tongue.

"Are you talking about Akaashi?" asks Kenma, interrupting Koutarou's mental image of floating on fluffy buttered bread.

"You know him?"

Kenma shakes his head. "I stopped by Suga's for more burn medicine and Suga introduced us."

"He's Bo's soulmate, apparently."

Koutarou turns red. "He's not---we're not---I only just met him!" He buries his face in his hands. "And I made a total fool of myself, he's probably not going to come back!"

"Of course he'll come back," says Kuroo, patting him on the back reassuringly. "Firstly because he left his music box in your possession, but you know. Maybe he'll be the lucky one that falls for your quirky charms."

"You think so?"

"He's staying in town for a while, regardless. Just win him over in that time. You can do it."

Koutarou smiles down at the bread in his hands. "He did say he wanted to swing by and watch me work."

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. "Well, then, Bo, you're already halfway there." He leans in, lips pulling into a smirk. "The first step to any relationship is proximity, you know. The more time you spend with them, the higher the chance of success. Just look at me and Kenma---oomph."

Kenma doesn't even look up from his piece of bread when he sticks out his hand and pushes Kuroo's face away. “Akaashi isn’t really the type of person that would go out of his way to ask something like that,” Kenma says, lifting his eyes to stare right at Koutarou. His eyes seem to glow gold in the lantern light, and Koutarou suppresses a shiver. The man might be slight and unimpressionable at first, until Koutarou remembers that Kenma is a Seer, and Seers honestly terrify him to death. 

“He-he’s not?”

“He’s either interested in what you do, or he doesn’t trust you with his music box.”

Koutarou groans and drops his head back on the table.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Koutarou wasn’t always a Tinkerer. He used to have dreams of travelling the world, of becoming a knight, and for a couple years he wanted to be the first person to find a real live dragon. 

Then the war happened.

Koutarou was too young to remember much, but he remembers the hiding and the running and his parents shielding him from the reality of the carnage. He remembers that he wasn’t from Karasuno originally. Somewhere more north, maybe. He remembers his parents telling him to keep quiet, to be patient, _ be a good boy, we’ll come back for you _ \----

Except they never did. 

He’s not the only child with such dark memories of childhood. Brief as it was, the war left behind a trail of orphans in its wake. Koutarou was one of the lucky ones; the previous Tinkerer was a lonely old man with no living family left, so he took Koutarou in. The man didn’t raise him like his own son, rather as a successor for the shop, but he fed Koutarou and taught him how to Tinker, and that is more than Koutarou could ask for.

When the old man died, Koutarou took over the shop. There wasn’t a lot of business, small town as it were, but the occasional travelers made up for it. Koutarou loved Karasuno. Even if he had to wake up extra early to open the shop and work extra hard to finish the work quota for the day, even if he closed up shop by himself and returned to a dark house by himself, Karasuno was his home. 

Sometimes, Koutarou found himself staring into the distance, past the trees and beyond the mountains surrounding the town, imagining the broad plains and bountiful meadows he’d heard was there on the other side. He fantasized about leaving Karasuno to follow the travellers’ trails, about walking all over the kingdom from border to border, maybe even venturing into the City for a glimpse of the king’s Castle. 

But in the end, Koutarou never left. He tended to his shop, visited his friends, fell asleep at his worktable. There remained a part of him that yearned to see the world, but Koutarou paid it little mind. Karasuno was his home. And he was perfectly fine where he was.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Koutarou is examining the music box when the bell on the shop door tinkles, and he looks up to find Akaashi inside his shop. Beaming, Koutarou jumps up, nearly knocking his tools off the counter.

"Akaashi! You're here!"

"Yes, Bokuto-san." Akaashi approaches the counter, unwrapping the long grey scarf around his neck. "Suga-san told me to take a break. Is it alright if I stayed and observed?"

"Yes!" Koutarou lowers his volume when Akaashi flinches. "I mean, yes, of course, here, let me get you a chair---"

A few minutes of wild scrambling and flying tools later, Akaashi is seated neatly on the other side of the counter, his bag and cloak hung on the mismatched hooks installed on the wall by the door. Koutarou gathers his scattered tools again, handing a magnifying glass to Akaashi. He grins in response to the slightly confused look on the other's face before sliding on his goggles.

"I've already inspected it," he tells Akaashi, peering down at the open box. "And nothing seems out of the ordinary. I'm going to try and take it apart. Okay?"

Akaashi nods. "If that's what you deem best."

"Hey, hey, here goes!"

It's quiet in the shop save for the tiny tinkling sounds from where Koutarou is prodding the box. Akaashi looks on curiously, obediently holding the magnifying glass where Koutarou directs him. Slowly, carefully, Koutarou picks the box apart, removing little bits and meticulously placing them on a clean cloth. The parts are small, most of them a model before Koutarou's time. But he keeps his hands steady, eyes peeled for anything strange in the workings. He almost forgets Akaashi is observing him, so intently focused on his work.

"Did you find anything?" Akaashi asks eventually.

Sighing, Koutarou shakes his head. "I don't recognise the make or the signature here, but everything seems to be made perfectly. Honestly, this music box is made like a dream! Except for, you know, the whole no music thing."

"I see." Akaashi's expression doesn't change, but Koutarou hears the slight note of disappointment in those two words.

"But! That doesn't mean I can't fix it!" Koutarou waves his arms, then stops, realizing he's holding two sharp utensils in his hands. "Akaashi, just watch, I'll fix this! I'll do it, I swear on all the owls in this kingdom!"

Grey eyes blink at him. Then---and Koutarou just barely holds his loud gasp in---the corners of Akaashi's lips lift up just the smallest bit. "Okay, Bokuto-san. I believe you." Akaashi glances at the wall of clocks on the other side of the room. "I apologise, but I should get going. Suga-san is expecting me back to help replant the spearmint."

"Right! Okay!" Koutarou stands to see him to the door. "I'll see you! You'll see me? Ah, well, we'll probably see each other around town, haha. Um. Safe trip!"

"It's just down the street," Akaashi says, but he sounds amused. Fixing the scarf back around his neck, he bows slightly to Koutarou before exiting.

Koutarou stands waving at the closed door, before letting out a groan and knocking his forehead into the glass. He startles when there's a sudden smack on the door, opening his eyes to yelp at the face pressed up against the other side of the glass.

He opens the door, yelling, "What in goddesses' sandals are you doing!"

"Just came to see how you were doing, Bo. Seems like you had a blast with Mr. Pretty, Dark, and Mysterious there." Kuroo raises his eyebrows, his trademark smirk spread wide across his face.

"Sh-shush!" Koutarou slaps his cheeks, turning away. Now that he's not sitting behind the counter armed with his tools, he's remembering how close Akaashi was. The way the traveller's dark hair falls in waves into his eyes when he leans forwards, the way the bulbs above their heads illuminated the shadows his long lashes cast on his cheeks, the way the light glints off his eyes when he glances back up at Koutarou. Akaashi is definitely pretty, and Koutarou, unfortunately, is very weak for pretty things.

“Wow, you sure are looking red there.” Kuroo grins, crossing his arms. “It’s not everyday I get to see flustered Bokuto, eh.”

Koutarou frowns at him. “Did you only come here to make fun of me?”

“Surprisingly, no. I’m here to tell you that we’re all gathering at the Crow’s Nest tonight to throw a little welcome party for your loverboy.”

“Really?” Koutarou perks up. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a party! I’m excited!” 

Kuroo pats him on the back. “Just don’t get too drunk like last time, yeah? Suga must have worked wonders to convince Daichi to hold it at his place again. There’s also your precious Akaashi to impress, right?”

“Yes! I’ll impress him and give him the best welcome!”

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

He’s fiddling with the pieces of the music box when it starts. 

_... the figure of a woman, with flowing black hair... moving like she’s underwater, like she’s soaring through skies... something fluid and captivating like koutarou’s never seen before... dancing. she’s dancing, and it’s mesmerizing... she turns, and koutarou loses his breath... she’s as graceful as her movements, but her eyes... a pair stunning, impossibly green eyes, as if they can see right through koutarou’s soul... he gasps--- _

\---and comes out of the vision with a small jolt. His hands, tools clenched tightly in them, hover over the spread out music box. He can feel sweat beading his forehead, but his stomach is fine this time. Carefully, he places his tools on the table. He takes slow breaths in case the vertigo decides to show up.

Even after all these years, Koutarou never gets used to his magic. The old man managed to teach him how to awaken his magic, but Koutarou has never been a good student, so he never really managed to get the hang of controlling the magic properly. The visions come and go when he’s Tinkering, never with a warning and always without a single clue as to their significance. Sometimes it lasts around two minutes, sometimes it lasts only a few seconds. Koutarou has learned to just stay still and let the visions run their course. 

The magic of Tinkering used to be sought after like elves in the forests, back in the day. Koutarou can remember when the old man first took him in, the shop door tinkling every few minutes with customers seeking answers to old antiques or artifacts passed down by their ancestors, trying to find any trace of memory left behind in the crafts they held in their hands. Then, slowly, other forms of psychic magic became more accessible, or maybe handmade crafts became less fascinating in the eyes of the public, or something, Koutarou isn’t too sure, but Tinkerers grew less and less in number. Koutarou can’t remember the last time he’s heard of another Tinkerer in these parts. 

But it doesn’t matter to Koutarou, not really. Because Tinkering is a part of him, just as surely as Karasuno is his home. 

He allows himself another minute to wonder about the woman in his vision---why she seemed so familiar when he can swear he’s never seen her ever in his life---before deciding to put away the music box for now. He can ask Akaashi about the origins of the music box later.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

The first thing Koutarou sees when he pushes open the doors of the Crow’s Nest is fire. 

A lick of flame spirals above the door, and Koutarou ducks, fearing his hair might be singed. Noya and Tanaka are doing their dance in the middle of the room, the tables pushed to the side to allow space for their fire and lightning magic spectacle. Everyone else is crowded around the tables, clapping and hollering as if they don’t perform the same thing at every big gathering.

Koutarou whistles loudly as Tanaka throws Noya up into the air, his lightning chasing the smaller man as Noya streaks circles with his flames. As Koutarou’s eyes follow their descent, he gaze connects with a pair of wide gold eyes. He shivers, even as he begins to make his way across the room towards the bar. He’ll never get over the way Kenma seems to be aware of his presence at all times, always the first to know when someone is approaching. Kenma swears that his cat-like sensitivity has nothing to do with his ability to See, but Koutarou doesn’t buy it. 

“Bo! My man! Fashionably late as usual, I see.” Kuroo claps him on the back, gesturing for Koutarou to take the seat next to him. Kenma is on his other side, giving Koutarou a brief nod before turning back to the small contraption in his hands, a handmade puzzle game that Koutarou worked together with Kuroo to give the Seer for his last birthday. 

“I was too busy fixing Ukai’s stopwatch! You can say I lost track of time trying to fix time, haha!”

“That’s funny.” A glass glides across the counter in front of Koutarou. Sawamura Daichi, the proud and often exasperated owner of the town’s one and only tavern. He smiles crookedly at Koutarou. “But did you manage to fix Ukai’s watch?”

Koutarou puffs out his chest. “Of course! Because I am the best!”

“That you are, my friend!” Kuroo raises his drink towards him, a lazy smile on his face. 

They drink, chatting with Daichi for a bit, the atmosphere relaxed and familiar. It’s loud enough they have to raise their voices. The drinks that Daichi prepared for them slides down Koutarou’s throat easily, settling in a warm heap in his belly. He can feel the nonstop whirring in his mind like the clockwork he works with everyday slowing down, quieting to a soft murmur at the back of his head. Still, he finds himself glancing around the room every few minutes, searching for someone, though he doesn’t allow himself to admit who.

A while later, when there are at least two empty glasses in front of Koutarou, Suga shows up. The healer’s smile never fails to brighten the atmosphere a few degrees. He taps everybody’s palms as he makes his way behind the counter to peck Daichi on the cheek. 

“Hello everyone! I present to you the guest of honour!” 

Waving a hand behind him, he draws everyone’s attention to his quiet shadow. Akaashi, dressed in black like the night outside, nods politely at everyone. He turns to Koutarou last, and it takes a moment before Koutarou realizes he’s staring back, open-mouthed and dumb. 

Koutarou snaps out of it, grinning wide. “Akaashi!”

“Ohoho, so this is Mr. Pretty, Da---” 

There’s a sudden clatter as Koutarou launches himself at Kuroo, slapping a hand over his friend’s mouth and nearly causing the both of them to fall off their stools. Kenma doesn’t even spare them a glance, putting down his game and greeting Akaashi in his quiet way. 

“So you’re the new visitor in town,” says Daichi. “I’m Daichi, welcome to the Crow’s Nest. Suga told me you have plant magic?”

“Yes,”  Akaashi replies, taking the offered drink with a nod. “Only a little, but enough to help Suga-san out with his work.”

“That’s so cool!” Koutarou blurts out.

Akaashi glances at him. “Thank you,” he says, his lips tilting up slightly, enough that Koutarou has to glance away, feeling his cheeks heat up in response.

Straightening his shirt, Kuroo leans around Koutarou to address Akaashi. “Welcome to Karasuno. I’m Kuroo, I run the local bakery with Kenma over here. I hope we won’t scare you off too badly.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Ha, nice one. Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah,” Akaashi says. He shrugs. “Around, I suppose. We---I travelled around a lot before I left on my own.”

“A traveller, huh?” Kuroo nods appreciatively. Koutarou, at this point, is staring unabashedly at Akaashi. Akaashi only shrugs once more, sipping at his drink. 

Kenma suddenly puts his game away, sitting up to tug at Kuroo’s sleeve. “Shouyou’s here. I want to go say hi.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go keep his scary witch occupied.” They stand, Kenma giving them a small wave while Kuroo raises his glass to them and downs the rest of his drink.

Loud cheering comes from the crowd behind them, and Koutarou turns in time to see sparks of lightning interweaving with columns of fire, reaching up towards the ceiling. It’s an amazing sight, but soon Daichi is throwing down his towel and grumbling about keeping those two from destroying the building. Suga laughs, a bright bubbly sound, following Daichi through the crowd, leaving Koutarou alone with Akaashi.

He fiddles with his half-empty glass, sneaking glances over at the other. Akaashi’s profile is as regal as his first impression, the way he holds himself delicately yet proudly, his long fingers wrapped around his glasses elegantly. He sits beside Koutarou as if he has all the time in world.

Akaashi is the one to break the silence. “They’re talented,” he says, watching Noya and Tanaka flip around, avoiding Daichi’s frustrated arm-waving and yelling. “I’ve seen many fire and lightning magic users while travelling, but they have some of the best control I’ve ever seen.”

“Really? Most of the time we just think they’re showing off, but I guess they do practice a lot. I mean, if I had flashy magic like that, I’d never stop using it!”

“I don’t think your body could take that, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi glances over, cutting off Koutarou’s protests when he meets Koutarou’s gaze. “Your magic is also special. It’s hard to find Tinkering magic these days.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” Koutarou laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “But Tinkering’s not very interesting, it’s just random memories from people’s possessions, a lot of which are just, well, a jumbled mess and it doesn’t really help anybody so....” He trails off, realizing he’s just complaining now and he doesn’t want to come off as ungrateful in front of Akaashi, because he’s not, not really, it’s just that it’s true his magic isn’t as eye-catching and it’s not like it comes in handy in anything else other than his job.

“I think your magic is really interesting.” 

Koutarou’s thoughts come to a crashing halt. He stares at Akaashi, who stares right back, expression unchanged. Koutarou can tell Akaashi means it, but he’s stuck on how, under the orange glow cast by Noya’s fire, Akaashi’s eyes look a startling green. 

Then Kuroo is back at the bar, jumping over the counter saying something about Daichi being preoccupied and all this alcohol going to waste if it’s not going in their bellies, and Koutarou forgets what he was going to say. The rest of the night passes in a blur: clinking of glasses and Noya’s wild laughter, the sharp edge of Kuroo’s grin and Akaashi’s quiet quips, the burning of his throat as whiskey goes down fast and the burning of wood as Tanaka misses with his lightning, Daichi’s temper flaring and Tsukishima putting out the fire with a wave of his arm, walking home drenched because Tsukishima accidentally-on-purpose missed with his magic and watered everyone else in the near vicinity as well. 

It isn’t until Koutarou is lying in bed, blinking blearily at his cracked ceiling, that he remembers why Akaashi’s green eyes struck him silent.

They looked just like the eyes of that woman in his vision.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

The bells on his door tinkles softly while Koutarou is in the back room, digging through some boxes. “Hello?” a familiar voice calls out. “Anybody home?”

Grabbing the entire box with him, Koutarou beams at the fair-haired young man standing in his shop. “Konoha! Good morning!”

“Yeah, yeah, good morning. How are you already this loud?” Konoha steps up to the counter, tugging something out of his gold, black, and white uniform pocket. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me fix this.”

“Anything for you, my friend!” 

Koutarou dumps his box on the ground before crossing to the counter. He peers down at the locket Konoha drops in front of him. It’s made of silver, simple in design, but Koutarou can tell from the shine and cleanliness that it’s well taken care of. Pulling on his gloves, he picks it up.

“Oh no, your precious Kaori-chan is ruined!”

“Shut up, Bokuto. It’s just the clasp is broken. I would have gone to Asahi but he said Noya is still hungover so their shop is closed today.”

“It’s okay, I can fix this! Give me a minute.”

Konoha pulls up a stool while Koutarou gathers his tools. He quickly unscrews the locket and gets to work, humming all the while. 

“Hey, hey, Konoha. How is Kaori-chan?”

“Alright, I guess. I just received her letter last week and she said she just got moved up a rank.”

“You must be so proud!”

“Yeah, it was only a matter of time. She’s a talented girl.”

Koutarou glances up to find Konoha staring into the distance, a small smile on his face. Something twinges in Koutarou’s chest, the way it always does when he hears Konoha talk about his girl, or when he sees Kuroo duck down to whisper into Kenma’s ear, or when he witnesses Suga and Daichi holding hands while walking the streets. It’s not that he’s jealous of his friends, it’s more like he’s just... curious about how it feels. To be with someone. To know for certain that someone is waiting for you at home, that they think about you just as much as you think of them. 

He focuses back on the locket, blinking past images of a tall freckled brunette, a teenaged Konoha holding her hand. “When are you going to visit her?”

“I don’t know.” Konoha is quiet for a while. “We’re not in war anymore, but the kingdom is still recovering. As a Knight, it’s my duty to watch over this town.”

Koutarou tests the newly fixed clasp. “You’re an amazing Knight, Konoha. I hope you get to see Kaori-chan soon.”

“Thanks, Bokuto. You’re a pretty amazing person, yourself.”

“I’m not just amazing! I’m the best!”

As Koutarou returns the locket to Konoha, the bells chime again, and they both look up to find Akaashi stepping into the shop. He freezes as soon as he spots Konoha by the counter. Koutarou blinks, wondering at the strange expression that flickers across Akaashi’s face before he schools it back to his composed non-expression.

“You must be Akaashi,” Konoha says. “I’m Konoha, one of the Knights stationed in Karasuno. Don’t hesitate to call upon me if you have any trouble, or if Bokuto here is bothering you with his loudness.”

“Hey!”

“You know I love you. I better be going, Washio’s expecting me.” Konoha pockets his locket, putting his cap back on. “Nice meeting you, Akaashi. Thanks again, Bokuto.”

Only because Koutarou has turned back to Akaashi as Konoha leaves that he notices the slight fall of Akaashi’s shoulders when the door closes, as if he’d been holding a breath. Before Koutarou can question it, Akaashi is straightening and walking towards him.

“Hello, Bokuto-san. I hope you don’t mind my being here again today.”

“No, not at all!”

Akaashi takes the stool that Konoha occupied, loosening the scarf around his neck. “Are you good friends with Konoha-san?”

“Mm, I guess so! We’re all good friends here, but me and Konoha go way back. He used to do training in the forests here when he was little! But then he went all the way to the City to join the Knights, so I haven’t seen him in years until he got stationed here.”

“I see.”

Koutarou tilts his head. The other man looks plenty distracted. He ducks back into his workroom, digging around a bit before rushing back to the main shop. “Akaashi! Let’s work on your music box!”

“Ah. Did you make progress?”

He deflates a bit, hands clutching the tin box where he’s placed the pieces of the music box. “No,” he says honestly. He perks back up. “But I think with your help, I just might!”

“Alright.” Akaashi takes the stool that Konoha occupied, loosening his long scarf. He looks so graceful, sitting there under the little fairy lights strung throughout the shops, that Koutarou loses a few seconds staring.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Wh--I--Yeah!” Feeling his cheeks heat up slightly, Koutarou busies himself opening the box and lifting out the music box pieces. “Uh, I’ve looked through the parts, and nothing seems to be wrong physically. I haven’t tried putting it back together yet, but I think it might be enchanted.”

“I see.”

“Hey, hey, Akaashi. Can I ask you questions about the music box?”

Akaashi hesitates. “Yes,” he replies eventually.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to! It just might help me figure it out if I had more information about it.” With familiar ease, Koutarou is already putting the base back together. “Um, have you tried taking it to the creator of the box? How did you say you got the box again?”

“I don’t know the creator of the music box.” Akaashi’s voice is quiet, and his eyes don’t leave the careful movements of Koutarou’s hands. “My mother had the box before me, and she passed it down to me only a few years ago. I believe she received it as a gift, perhaps before I was born.”

“Oh. Is she... Is your mother also a traveller?”

Akaashi’s hands twist in his lap, a nervous habit of some sort. “Was. She was a travelling performer. A dancer.” His hands still, but his eyes remain downcast. “She passed away a few months ago. I decided to seek answers to the music box after mourning.”

Tools clatter against the counter as Koutarou’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to---that wasn’t---I mean---”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san. Really.”

“O-Oh. Sor--I mean, okay.” 

It’s quiet for a while. Neither of them try to make eye contact, with only the small clinking sounds from Koutarou’s tools and the ticking of the multiple clocks on the wall filling the silence. Koutarou risks a glance up to find Akaashi studying him, a contemplative look on his face. When he realizes Koutarou is staring back, he quickly smooths out his expression, straightening on his chair.

“If you don’t mind, Bokuto-san, I’d like to revitalise these plants of yours.”

“Plants?”

Akaashi turns his head towards the front door, where indeed there are several potted plants lined up beside two worn chairs by the window. Koutarou remembers Tsukishima’s brother and Tanaka’s sister dragging the chairs through the door, saying his shop should be more welcoming and they were looking for new furniture anyway. The plants, however, are accumulated through the years, just like his clocks, donations from his friends. Koutarou isn’t very good at taking care of them, though.

“Oh, yeah, sure! I mean, wait, you can do that?”

The corners of Akaashi’s lips tilt up just the slightest bit. “I have small plant magic, remember?”

“Right!”

Koutarou watches Akaashi cross the room to inspect the plants. There are five pots currently, all carrying different sized plants, but that’s about as much difference as Koutarou can tell. He’s a Tinkerer, not a wood nymph. Akaashi leans down, touching the leaves with gentle fingers. 

“Have you been watering these every day?”

“Uh, I try to. Sometimes I forget.”

Akaashi’s hum is absentminded, with barely any inflection at all, yet it instantly makes Koutarou feel guilty. He puts down his tools, walking over to peer down at the plants, too. “Did I kill them?”

“No. Not yet, at least.” Akaashi stands back up. He gestures for Koutarou to help him drag the pots towards the middle of the room. “They’re a bit sick, and some are sleepy. I will do what I can.”

Koutarou steps back respectfully, keeping quiet but watching with curious eyes. Akaashi positions himself between the plants, arms at waist-level, hands loose and relaxed. His eyes are closed, and he takes in several deep breaths. His hands begin to glow green. Koutarou barely holds back a gasp when he sees the plants responding, their leaves waving slightly. One of them even shoots straight up for a moment before drooping over again. 

Then Akaashi opens his eyes. They glow the same green as his hands. He steps forwards, hovering his open palms over the plants. Eyes wide and transfixed, Koutarou watches the plants respond, shifting and stretching as if coming out of a long sleep. For the first time, Koutarou sees the plants as something more than inanimate objects standing at the front of his shop. Under Akaashi’s touch, it’s as if they’re  _ friends _ , dancing to an invisible tune, greeting him warmly. It’s adorable, really.

The glow starts to fade, leaving behind four healthy plants and a blinking Akaashi. He looks down at the last pot, crouching down to touch it lightly. The plant shivers, a few leaves drifting off. 

“I’m sorry,” says Akaashi. “This is all I can do.”

“No, this is already amazing! Thank you!”

“It’s no problem. I am a little sad about this one though.” His fingers trace the edge of the pot.

Koutarou frowns, feeling a little sad himself. Then he perks up. “How about this! You can help me choose new plants for my shop!”

“New plants?”

“Yeah! Kenma always says that he’s afraid to enter my shop, so maybe you can help me make it a more welcoming place.”

“I think that might just be because there is clutter everywhere.” But there is a tiny smile pulling at Akaashi’s lips. He stands, facing Koutarou. “I think I will take you up on that offer, Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou grins.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Koutarou twists the lamp on his worktable, trying to find a better angle. His shop has been closed for hours, the bakery next door quiet since he went upstairs to take a shower. Usually, Koutarou is in bed by now, but tonight he felt something tugging him back downstairs. So here he is, squinting through his goggles at Akaashi’s music box. 

He’s resurrected the box by now, the owls sitting sweetly side by side with the top open. Even though he’s inspected the cylinder many, many times, even tried placing it into his own handmade music boxes as an experiment, the box refuses to produce sound. He can’t deny it. He’s growing more and more frustrated.

Koutarou sighs, reaching in to adjust the spring motors, but then---

_... the woman with the green, green eyes... she’s dancing again, but this time, she’s not alone... the taller, stockier build of a man spins her with grace, even though he remains faceless to koutarou... soft piano, the sound of a harp... the quiet affection painting the woman’s face as she stares up at the man who holds her... the gentleness in his hands as he spins her again, and again, and again... the bright lights of the hall they dance in, the shiny walls, the chandelier...  _

When he manages to blink away the vision, Koutarou becomes increasingly aware of the twinge in his heart. He holds up a hand to his chest, rubbing slightly. His heart is also beating very fast, as if he’s just ran down the street and back, except it almost feels like his heart is so full, as if it’s about to spill over.

He decides it’s time to call it a day. The music box goes back into the tin, his tools go back to their respective hooks and pouches, the lamp goes off. But Koutarou’s heart remains pounding fast, and his mind remains wondering about the woman the music box remembers. Who is that man? Why does Koutarou feel like he’s better off not knowing?

Outside in the main shop, a clock chimes softly. Koutarou yawns. He glances around his workroom, empty and still, a complete contrast to the tightness in his chest. Koutarou turns off the lights. 

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Akaashi doesn’t show up the next day. 

Koutarou keeps glancing at his wall of clocks, but they only tick back at him, depicting the right time, the wrong time, and the amount of time that passes without a tinkling at his door. He tries to focus on his work-in-progresses, little watches and paperweights and cuckoo clocks, but it’s only a matter of time before he’s putting down his tools and putting on his jacket. He turns the sign on his door to THE TINKERER IS OUT!, with a little horned owl holding a small hammer in the corner, courtesy of Yachi, Karasuno’s cutest mail messenger. 

“Bo? Where are you going?” Kuroo stands just outside his bakery door, a tray of cinnamon rolls in his hands. 

“Um, for a walk!”

“Oh. Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?”

Kuroo is a good friend, Koutarou thinks. Though he’s probably asking from experience, when Koutarou managed to think himself into a downward spiral and more often than not needed somebody else’s company to distract him. He gives Kuroo a confident smile. “It’s okay, Kuroo. I’m just going for some fresh air.”

“Alright.” Kuroo nods to him. “I made some garlic bread if you want to swing by later.”

“Okay!”

He continues down the street, humming to himself. Summer is in the air, the sky a startling blue and more birds flitting about than ever----though that might just be Narita’s influence. Koutarou greets the various townspeople out and about enjoying the longer daylight. They all return his greeting warmly, but none of them have seen their travelling guest. Undeterred, Koutarou makes his way towards Suga’s place.

The lights are out in Suga’s shop. He peers through the windows, but where Suga is usually bustling about mixing concoctions and measuring ingredients, there are no movements. Still, Koutarou raps his knuckles on the door.

It takes a few minutes, but a light goes on in the back, and then Suga is opening the door, that familiar sunny smile of his instantly calming Koutarou. “Bokuto! Why the surprise visit?” His grin turns mischievous, causing Koutarou to gulp in nervous anticipation. “Let me guess, a certain dark-haired traveller?”

“Well, it’s not---I mean---it’s just---” stammers Koutarou, but Suga is already laughing at him good-naturedly. 

“Don’t worry, Bokuto. I won’t tease you... too much.” He leads Koutarou to his backroom. There are plants everywhere, and Koutarou has to duck a few times to avoid being smacked in the face by some leaves and vines. Suga turns suddenly, handing Koutarou a tray of tea and what looks like cake, but the colour reflects a forest of greens.

Koutarou frowns. “Are you sick?”

“Oh, it’s not for me! Akaashi has been in bed since morning, I’m assuming he’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Oh no! Is it because he helped me with my plants yesterday!”

Suga frowns. “Have you not been taking care of them properly? If he used his magic, it must have taken a toll on him.” He pats Koutarou’s back. “It’s okay, Bokuto. This is your chance, take these up to him! I need to go check up on Noya, Asahi dropped by before you all anxious----but that might just be his natural worrywart personality...” 

Before Koutarou knows it, Suga has pushed him up the stairs and is out the front door in a flurry of jars and bottles. Koutarou looks down at the tray in his hands. He shrugs. If Akaashi really is sick, then he can’t leave now! 

So he climbs the stairs, peeking into the rooms until he finds one with the least clutter, only a bag by the wall and dark cloaks laid over the chair in the corner and a person-shaped lump on the bed. Creeping in as quietly as he can, Koutarou places the tray on the bedside table. 

He glances at the bed, but all he can see is a tuft of dark curls sticking out of the bundle of blankets he’s assuming is Akaashi. It’s a bit of a surprise, but it’s also amusing, knowing that for someone who looks so put-together on the outside sleeps like this. Koutarou wonders if he should feel guilty, but before he can ponder too much, the blankets shuffle, and then groggy grey eyes are blinking at him.

“... Bokuto-san?”

“Ah! Sorry! I was wondering why you didn’t show up today, since you usually show up sometime during the day----oh, but, I guess that’s kind of intrusive of me, isn’t it! I mean, we barely know each other, you might have been busy with Suga’s work, I shouldn’t have---well, it did turn out that you weren’t feeling well, but still---I’m sorry, I should let you rest! I’m probably disturbing you because I’m too loud----Sorry, Akaashi...”

Koutarou scratches his neck, turning away. He’s starting to feel a little shy, standing in Akaashi’s bedroom while the other slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position. Maybe he should leave.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi runs a hand through his hair. His voice is still raspy with sleep, but it’s somehow endearing. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“Suga said to give you this.” He helps Akaashi pour some tea and hands him the plate of green cakes. The other murmurs a quiet thanks, movements slow. “Are you tired because of yesterday?”

“Mm. A little. I’ve also been helping Suga-san with his medicines, so it’s not entirely because of your plants.” Akaashi takes a sip of the tea, while Koutarou spots another chair by the window and pulls it over. “I haven’t used my magic in a long time, so it must have taken a bigger toll on my body than I realized.”

“Oh. Should I leave, then?”

“No, it’s fine.” There’s a pause, and Akaashi glances up at him. “Unless you’re busy.”

Koutarou shakes his head. He stays, and they talk. 

Akaashi asks him about his magic, and Koutarou tells him about the most memorable crafts he’s ever encountered, like that one lady’s human-sized automaton with all the loving memories of her deceased husband, or that one wizard’s grandfather clock which turned out to remember the secret spell his great-great-grandmother discovered. In return, Akaashi tells him about his travels, about breathtaking meadows as far as eye can see, about sparkling waters with seemingly no end in sight, about night skies where the stars appear to dance with them, about forests that whisper secrets from ages and ages ago. 

The evening passes between them, quiet, soft, and Koutarou returns to his shop feeling like his heart is filled to the brim with something warm he has yet to find a name for.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Summer settles in like a seedling in soil. Akaashi visits every day, saying something about checking up on his music box and also the wellbeing of Koutarou’s plants, and Koutarou finds himself looking forwards to the time they spend together in his shop. Sometimes they talk, sharing stories or just making conversation. Sometimes Akaashi just watches Koutarou with his goggles on, exchanging small cogs for new ones in the latest clock someone brought in. 

Akaashi’s music box sits on the shelf in the backroom. He’s been working on it after he closes up shop every night, but there is little progress. He’s certain the box is enchanted. He really wants to produce results for his favourite customer, but Koutarou knows the limits of his magic. 

The memories begin to flow faster and more vividly the longer he knows Akaashi. This isn’t alarming by itself; if there’s one thing Koutarou remembers from his apprentice days it’s that Tinkering and all magic tied to psychic memories relies on shared wavelength and familiarity between subject and the magic user. But the music box seems to be going through some sort of timeline with these memories.

So Koutarou sees the woman again, and again, and again----dancing with the faceless man, who must be someone important and rich, to have such beautiful clothes and always appear in such a lavish hall. He guesses the woman must be the previous owner of the music box. Her brilliant green eyes haunt his dreams, but he thinks nothing of it, until.

Until the music box decides to show him another person.

The woman is dancing still, but this time the man and the luxurious golden halls and tapestries are gone, replaced by open, boundless hills, vibrantly green and dotted with flowers of every shade. Beside her, in her arms is a little boy, pale skin unlike hers and a head full of dark curls. Barely a toddler yet his steps follow hers with ease.

And Koutarou finally understands, then. 

That woman was Akaashi’s mother. 

Strangely feeling like an intruder to these memories--- _ the woman’s smile, the boy’s laughter, the vast plains filled with animals koutarou’s never seen before, the cool shadows a canopy of trees provide, the crackling of a bonfire and the soft song of a lullaby _ \---Koutarou says nothing to Akaashi. He doesn’t know who that faceless man was, or why Akaashi never mentions his father when he’s telling his stories. He doesn’t know if following these memories the music box is showing him will allow him to unravel the enchantment; he only hopes he can find an answer before he sees too much of Akaashi’s life without the man’s permission.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

“Knock, knock, Bokuto.”

Koutarou jumps, accidentally sweeping a jar of pencils and rulers to the floor. There’s a piece of paper stuck to his cheek, and indentations from the nuts and rivets lying around on his palms. He must’ve fallen asleep.

“Kuroo? What’s going on?”

His friend only gives him a brief grin before gesturing at someone behind him. A little more awake now, Koutarou sees Akaashi and Kenma lugging in something tall and green, thick enough that he can barely see their heads through it. A plant? They drag it to the the chairs by the window. Kenma wipes his hands on his shirt, a disgruntled look on his face. Meanwhile Kuroo is coming back in through the door, arms full of smaller pots and jars, each with a healthy plant or two growing in them.

Speechless, Koutarou makes his way over to the front of his shop, now complete with plants and flowers of various sizes and colour. “Did I forget my own birthday again?”

“A while ago, you said that I could help you choose new plants,” Akaashi says, twisting his fingers together, and if Koutarou doesn’t know better, he’d think Akaashi looks almost nervous.

“And you did! Thank you!”

“It’s nothing.” Akaashi turns to fuss around the plants, ducking his head and turning his face away.

Kuroo nudges Koutarou, grinning at him. He puts an arm around the Tinkerer to talk in his ear. “He showed up at our door this morning asking us about you.” 

Koutarou turns pink. “Y-you’re lying!”

“Nope. I think he might really like you.”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi is facing him now, standing by the tallest plant, a leafy and multicoloured thing, waving slightly behind the man.

Kuroo excuses himself, but not before wriggling his eyebrows at Koutarou. He walks over to where Kenma is huddled in the corner. Koutarou presses a hand to his chest. His heart has sped up a little bit, but it’s probably just because of the heat.

No, it’s probably because of Akaashi. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Koutarou steps over to Akaashi. It’s almost painful, how familiar he is with this boy, this boy he’s only known for barely a month. He knows that Akaashi is quiet by nature, but never hesitates in speaking his mind. He knows that Akaashi loves all things living, that Akaashi is kind even if he tends to change the subject when it comes to personal matters. He knows Akaashi’s smile, brief and harder to catch than faeries in the winter, and he knows Akaashi’s eyes, serious and calm and under the right light, impossibly, mesmerizingly green.

“This is a dragon rose plant,” says Akaashi, touching the leaves with the tips of his fingers. “I found it in the back of Suga-san’s garden, and he said I could take one. They’re shy plants, but once they warm up to you, they’re loyal.” He leans forwards, taking in the scent of the plant. “It should bloom soon. I think you should like the colour.”

“I’ve never heard of a dragon rose,” Koutarou admits. “Is it pink? Rainbow?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “I don’t know the colour.”

“You don’t? But you’re so smart about plants!”

Koutarou holds his breath as Akaashi laughs. It’s happened before, but it still takes him by surprise every time. 

“No one knows the colour,” Akaashi explains, “because the colour depends on the plant’s mood at the time. If it likes you, it will bloom the colour that pleases you most.”

“That’s amazing!” Koutarou turns his wide eyes to the plant, but then a thought occurs to him. His shoulders start to droop. “But I’m not good with plants, what if it doesn’t like me?”

“You’ll be okay, Bokuto-san.” 

Koutarou believes him.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

It’s as rowdy as ever in the Crow’s Nest. Daichi’s voice can be heard, conversing with people at the bar and calling out to Kinoshita and Narita to deliver food and drinks. There’s a small crow flitting above their heads, which means that in the corner somewhere there is a scowling Kageyama scribbling into his spellbook.

“How’s it going, Bokuto?” Konoha falls into the chair beside him, holding a drink. He nods to Akaashi.

“It’s going fantastic! Where is Washio?”

“He said he wanted to patrol tonight.”

“But nothing ever happens in Karasuno.”

“I agree,” sighs Konoha, “but you never know if bandits or the like will take advantage of everybody’s lowered guard during this peacetime.”

Koutarou hums. The war is still too fresh in everyone’s minds. He perks up when he sees Ennoshita heading towards them with a tray in his hands. “Ennoshita! Just who I wanted to see!”

“Because I have your food, right?” Ennoshita replies dryly. He sets down the tray, nodding to the other two. His eyes settle on Akaashi, and he cocks his head. “Are you feeling alright? Your aura is... wavering.”

Looking a little startled, Akaashi inclines his head. “I’m fine, thank you. Just, ah. Hungry.”

“You can have my food, Akaashi!”

“I don’t need all of it, Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou grins. He’s really glad Akaashi agreed to come out with him tonight, even though Akaashi doesn’t seem to be one for crowds. He likes to think that lately Akaashi has been opening up to him. At least, about the places he’s been and the plants he’s met. Koutarou still isn’t very sure about a lot of things about Akaashi’s past, but that’s fine. Akaashi is a very private person.

Minutes later, the tavern’s door blows open, and a small blond blur darts in between the crowded tables. Yachi comes to a skidding stop in front of their table, her blonde hair windswept and her suspender straps sliding off one shoulder. It takes her a moment to catch her breath.

“Konoha-san! There is a new notice from the City!”

“The City?”

“Yes, sir! Urgent matters from the King himself!”

“The King, huh.” Konoha tips his glass back and stands. “Looks like a Knight’s duty never rests. I’ll be off, then.”

Koutarou waves his friend off. He turns to Akaashi, who is also staring at the doors, except there is a tiny, worried crease in his brows. “Akaashi? What’s wrong?” He pauses, thinking about how quiet Akaashi was since Konoha sat down with them. “Do you... do you not like Knights?”

Akaashi’s fingers trace the rim of his glass as he hesitates. “It’s not that,” he says. “I apologize if I seem rude to your friend.”

“I’m sure Konoha doesn’t mind! He probably just thinks you’re shy. But you really don’t have a problem with Knights? Washio and Konoha are the only two stationed here, and I can assure you that they’re friends!”

“Everyone is your friend, Bokuto-san.” The corners of Akaashi’s lips pull up in a brief smile. “It’s really fine. Thank you.”

He feels like there is something Akaashi isn’t saying, but before he can figure out how to address his curiosity, there is a puff of black feathers from across the room, then Kageyama’s voice yelling, “Hinata, you dumbass!” and the familiar scene of Daichi stomping over from the bar to scold the witch and his familiar. Koutarou never gets the chance to ask Akaashi about his aversion to Knights or how the traveller always seems to avoid talks of the City.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

Konoha swings by his shop to tell him the news from the Castle: 

“The King is looking for someone, specifically, someone with a token of his. We weren’t told the specifications of the object but apparently it’s very dear to him. He wants us to bring in anybody we suspect might be carrying the token----so Bokuto, if you see anything come in with something that bears the King’s mark, please report it to us, okay?”

Koutarou nods, waving at his friend cheerily as Konoha leaves, but it isn’t until much later, when Akaashi comes in, that he remembers what the King’s mark is.

It’s an owl.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

The music box catches him by surprise the next night. He goes in expecting to see breathtaking scenery and a younger Akaashi, but instead he sees---

_ \---golden walls, chandelier, rich tapestry, embroidered rugs... koutarou recognizes this place, the faceless man’s place... he stands in front of a large portrait, but his body obscures the portrait’s subject... the woman stands beside him, but for once, she is not dancing... there are no soft piano, no lilting harps... just the distant chime of a bell tower... koutarou feels sharp unease, but why? but where? but how? _

_ then---the man holds out his hands---the music box---there’s no mistaking it---the music box---he turns the knob, opens the lid, but--- _

The vision wavers, and Koutarou tries catching his breath, but images and scenes and scattered memories continue to flash at him:  _ the sparkling rich hall full of people in fancy dress, shattered wine glass and red liquid oozing onto the marble floor, the woman running with her skirts billowing around her, carriages and horses and men in that black-white-gold, marching, marching, the woman crying as she holds a small cloth bundle in her arms, all alone, all alone, walking through fields of green and burning villages, the woman kissing the forehead of her sleeping child--- _

When Koutarou manages to shake himself out of the memories, he’s on the ground, chest heaving, hands clenched hard enough to leave a bruise. A wave of dizziness washes over him. Putting a hand to his head, Koutarou stays still until the nausea retreats enough for him to stand. 

The music box sits where he left it, on his worktable, lid open, cylinder and owls rotating slowly. 

“Pretending to be innocent, huh?” he mutters, breathing still uneven. The memories are still whirling about in his head. But Koutarou isn’t smart enough, he doesn’t know what it all means. All he knows is that there is the sinking coldness of dread in his stomach and the feeling that he’s missing something really important.

Kenma, he decides. Tomorrow he will go ask Kenma. But for now, he should try to sleep his headache away.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

“You shouldn’t be asking me,” Kenma says, without looking up from his game.

“But I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You don’t need to.”

“Kuroo! Kenma is being all scary again!”

Kuroo doesn’t even bother coming out of the kitchen. “You’re the one bothering him, so deal with it!”

Sighing heavily, Koutarou slumps into a chair. “Kenmaaa, please help me. The music box is trying to tell me something, I know it, but I’m too dumb to figure it out!”

Kenma sighs back at him. But he puts down his game, so Koutarou tells him about all the memories the music box shared, about the apprehension growing in his gut, about how he can’t stop thinking of Akaashi but he’s feeling so guilty towards Akaashi because of the music box and----

“So basically, you’re in love with Akaashi and his possessed music box is in the way of your beautiful love?”

Kenma turns his face to the side to hide his smirk as Kuroo raises his eyebrows at the Tinkerer, sliding fresh garlic bread onto the table. Koutarou pouts. He grabs the nearest slice of bread and chomps on it dejectedly. 

“I think the person you should be asking questions to isn’t me,” Kenma says. He rips his bread into smaller pieces, the grease from the garlic sauce sticking to his fingers. “You already have all the pieces you need, Koutarou.”

“Pieces?”

Gold eyes meet gold eyes, but Kenma’s seem to glow brighter than moments before. "You know who that music box belongs to. You know Akaashi keeps secrets. You know your time with him is running out.”

“Running----but Akaashi can’t leave! I haven’t fixed his music box yet!”

“But you can’t. Not here in this town.”

At that, Koutarou has no reply. Even Kuroo is quiet now, looking at him with that thoughtful expression of his, the one he wears when he’s finally figured something out, except that something is not good news. 

“You should be careful of things unsaid, Koutarou. Akaashi is a wandering soul, but it also means he isn’t above running from you.”

Kenma doesn’t say,  _ It’s up to you to run after him, _ but Koutarou hears it just fine.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

They’re both quiet in Koutarou’s shop. Which isn’t unusual, but they’re also consciously avoiding eye contact. Koutarou pretends to be busy unscrewing the back of a wind-up toy, but he’s really trying to work up the nerve to say something.

“Bokuto-san----”

“Akaashi----”

They both cut themselves off, blinking at the other. Koutarou laughs, a nervous sound that seems almost too loud in the space between them. He gestures for Akaashi to speak, but the other man only shakes his head.

“It’s nothing. Go ahead, Bokuto-san.”

“Oh, well, I... I was wondering if... If you’d like to take a walk with me.”

Akaashi looks at him. “A walk?”

“Yeah! The sun’s about to set, it’ll be really nice, and there’s... there’s something I want to show you.”

Akaashi waits patiently for him to close up shop. Koutarou spares a moment to slip the music box into his pocket before taking a deep breath and heading outside to meet the other. They walk down the street, footsteps matching. The silence follows them, awkward and heavy, yet neither make a move to break it. Koutarou scratches his neck.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Did you ever wish to settle down? Like in one place? Forever?”

He sees Akaashi glance at him out the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t dare look. He focuses on leading them down a small path around the side of old man Ukai’s place. There are tiny flowers dotting the edges of the road, but his destination is just a bit further ahead.

“Occasionally,” Akaashi answers after some consideration. “I’ve never stayed in one place longer than half a year, but sometimes I find somewhere that I can see myself staying. But I never really entertained the idea.”

“You’re a traveller at heart, huh?” Koutarou tries to sound playful, but he’s not entirely sure he succeeds.

“I suppose so.”

They fall back into silence. The path leads them down a hill, into the trees. The sky has turned a pinkish hue by now, giving way to the small twinkles of the earliest stars. Confidently, Koutarou ducks under a particularly low branch concealing the path and walks into the little clearing. He turns to Akaashi.

“This is it! It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it, since you like plants and all...”

The other man is busy staring in awe around them. Tall trees surround them like silent guards, while colourful vegetation tangle within their roots. There are vines circling thick branches, leaves dipping every which way, flowers peeking through on the ground and above. 

“I didn’t know such a place existed in Karasuno,” breathes Akaashi. He steps forwards to touch a particularly droopy leaf, and Koutarou watches as the entire plant bends itself closer to Akaashi, as if bowing. “Suga-san’s garden is impressive for a town this far out, but this... this is...”

Koutarou smiles, relieved. “I’m glad you like it. I found this place on one of my walks----and okay, it might be because I got a bit lost----but it’s really peaceful out here so sometimes I come here to think! And when the sun goes down, sometimes the pixies come out to play, or sometimes the wood nymphs come to keep me company, so I really like it! And I wanted to share that with you because... Um, just because!”

Akaashi turns back to him, and Koutarou swears his heart stutters in his chest. Akaashi is smiling, his eyes alight, and it’s absolutely breathtaking. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“Y-you can call me Koutarou.”

“Koutarou-san.” Akaashi’s head is tilted, watching the lightning bugs drift through the trees. He doesn’t see the slight shiver that slips through Koutarou at the sound of his name in Akaashi’s soft voice. “You’re too kind.”

The pocket where the music box sits burns. Koutarou looks away. “But I’m not,” he says quietly. “Akaashi. There’s something I should to tell you.”

Akaashi tears his gaze away from the sky, the smile on his lips fading. Koutarou almost regrets opening his mouth. “What is it, Bokuto-san?”

And so Koutarou tells him. He confesses that his magic has been showing him Akaashi’s past and secrets all along, that he’s seen so much without Akaashi knowing, that he should have said something but he never did because somewhere deep inside him he knew that he really wanted to know about Akaashi, even if he has to bear heavy guilt to do so. He tells him about the memories the music box has shared, the dancing woman, the faceless man, the gentleness and love the woman had for Akaashi. Koutarou tells him how he loves the stories Akaashi carries with him, how he loves seeing the same beautiful scenery through the box’s memories. He tells him how he knows Akaashi was never meant to stay in this town forever, but goddesses be damned, he wishes Akaashi would anyway.

He’s kneeling on the grassy floor by the end of it all, breathing hard and unable to meet Akaashi’s eyes. His fingers fumble in his pocket as he pulls out the music box. “I’m sorry, Akaashi, I’m sorry. I promised you I would fix your music box, but I can’t. The music box wants to return to its true owner, but I don’t know who that man is, I’m so sorry, Akaashi.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer for a long time. Then, his shoes come into Koutarou’s line of sight, and then he’s kneeling down, a hand on Koutarou’s shoulder.

“Bokuto---Koutarou-san.” Akaashi waits until Koutarou looks up. His expression is as serious as ever, but Koutarou can just recognize the slightest softening of his eyes, the sad resigned tilt of his lips. “Koutarou-san, there’s something I need to tell you, too.”

Koutarou sits back, gulping in air until he’s breathing again. His chest remains tight, as if something heavy has settled there and refuses to move. He forces himself to focus on Akaashi’s eyes, a grey dark enough to be mistaken for murky green.

“What I’m about to tell you, I’ve never told anyone before,” says Akaashi, folding himself onto the grass in front of Koutarou. “I suppose it is the reason why I’ve never stayed in one place for too long, or why I never made any real connections with anyone before.” He pauses, glancing away at the plants around them that are leaning in, as if trying to listen as well. 

“My mother is a traveller, as you know. She’s a dancer by trade, going wherever the winds take her. That’s how she raised me. Though I am not a dancer. She raised me all by herself, and because we moved around so often, I did not question why our family only consisted of her and myself.

“I never knew my father. I think she wanted to keep it that way, but---but the sickness consumed her too quickly. She told me everything the day she gave me the music box. I didn’t believe her at first, of course, but you’ve seen the music box. The way she talked about him, it’s... I can’t help but believe her.” Akaashi takes a breath before meeting Koutarou’s eyes, steady, unwaveringly. 

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but... My father is the King of Fukurodani. That music box is a token of his love for my mother, when she danced for him, all those years ago. But when the war came, he drove her from the castle. I don’t know if he ever intended to marry her.” Akaashi pauses again. “He never knew she was carrying me when she left.”

Koutarou is speechless. All the pieces are clicking into place, but he’s not sure what this means. He thinks back to the memories his magic showed him, of the woman dancing with the man. The King, he corrects himself. Suddenly, he remembers Konoha’s announcement.

As if reading Koutarou’s thoughts, Akaashi extends his hand for the music box. “They’re looking for me now. Or rather, my mother, but I guess they’ll just have to do with me.” He looks down wistfully at the music box. “I would have liked to hear its song at least once, but I suppose it’s not meant for me.” He looks back up at Koutarou, and this time, his expression is gentle, almost a bit sad. “Koutarou-san. Thank you, for trying but most importantly, for being my friend.”

The tightness in his chest seems to grow. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I figure it’s time to meet my father, and to finally return what is rightfully his.”

Koutarou doesn’t really remember what he says after that. He only remembers the long walk back through the quiet twilight, seeing Akaashi off at the end of the street as he heads back to Suga’s. When he reaches his shop, Kuroo and Kenma are waiting for him. 

“Kenma saw that you might like some company,” Kuroo explains, but not even the pie he’s carrying can bring the smile back on Koutarou’s face. 

It takes them a few hours and a few boxes of tissues for Koutarou to tell them everything and tire himself out crying. Kuroo pats him on the back while Kenma offers Koutarou the bigger slices of his favourite apple pie, but all Koutarou can think about is dark curls and fair skin, a low, soft voice and beautiful grey-green eyes. 

The tightness in his chest doesn’t disappear. He falls asleep clutching the front of his shirt and dreaming of owls flying far away.

 

 

**{ - }**

 

 

When he wakes the next morning, something sweet is in the air. But it’s not the buttery sort of sweetness from next door; it’s lighter, more subtle, as if a slight summer breeze was blowing past. Rubbing his eyes, he follows the scent down the stairs, past his workroom, into the main shop, and stops.

The dragon rose. It bloomed.

Completely awake now, Koutarou finds himself drifting closer to the plant. The leaves are still wide and vibrant in colour, but the flower. Each one is about the size of his palm, with large petals that look soft to the touch. Against the backdrop of the pink, orange, and brown, the flower almost seems to glow. But the most startling thing about the rose is the colour.

It’s green.

Gently, Koutarou touches the petal of the nearest flower, and instantly the plant seems to respond, stretching up towards his touch, the petals curling in slightly. It’s a soft but radiant green, one that shifts colours where sunlight strikes, and it doesn’t require much thought to figure out why the colour is so familiar.

It’s the exact shade of Akaashi’s eyes.

Koutarou doesn’t linger. He kisses the flower, laughing at how the whole plant seems to shiver against his lips, and then he’s rushing back upstairs to put on some decent clothes, for once forgoing his hair. 

“Bokuto! Where are you going?”

“To see Akaashi!” Koutarou yells over his shoulder at Kuroo. 

“Go get him, Bo!”

Koutarou raises his fist, speeding up as he dodges Narita, who is leading a line of ducks across the street. It’s a little too early for most shops to be open, but when he reaches Suga’s place, the lights are on.

“Bokuto?” Suga looks alarmed at the speed in which Koutarou enters his shop. “What’s going on?”

Breathless and unable to organize his thoughts just yet, Koutarou all but blurts out, “Akaashi!”

Suga blinks before understanding washes over his face. But then a frown pulls at his mouth, and instantly Koutarou’s heart is pounding again. “Akaashi’s not here. He left really early this morning----”

“Where?”

“He said something about facing his fate. I’m not sure, he was really quiet when he came back last night. Wasn’t he with you? What’s going on, Bokuto?”

Koutarou can only shake his head. “Suga, please, I need to see Akaashi right now. I---the music box, last night he---and this morning, the dragon rose---he can’t leave yet, not yet, not before I----” The tightness in his chest is back, and his pulse is roaring in his ears, his breathing coming too fast, he’s running out of time, he’s running out of time.

Suga must have seen how close Koutarou is to breaking down, because his expression softens, and he reaches a hand up to Koutarou’s forehead. Immediately, calmness slides through him like cool water. Suga keeps his hand there until Koutarou can breathe again.

“Sorry,” says Suga, leaning back. “I know we’ve agreed I shouldn’t use my magic to subdue you like that so often. But if you’re worried about Akaashi leaving, don’t. His things are still here. I think he might be at the lookout tower.”

“Thank you, Suga,” Koutarou says. He grabs Suga’s hand, squeezing it once, before he’s out the door again, the healer’s shout of  _ Good luck!  _ trailing after him.

The lookout tower is located on the hill at the edge of town, high enough to see over the trees surrounding Karasuno. It’s where the Knights live, and where all travellers must go through, coming or going. Koutarou has only been there once to visit his friends, but never to step foot beyond it.

The door to the tower is open. He doesn’t hesitate and storms right on inside. “Akaashi!” His voice echoes through the tower, loud enough to startle the dogs awake. “Akaashi! Where are you?”

“Bokuto, what in goddesses’ slippers are you screaming about?” Konoha appears at the foot of the stairs, a tired frown on his face. 

“Give me back Akaashi!”

“What?”

“You’re going to take him away! Because of the King! But you can’t! I won’t let you!” At this point, Koutarou has Konoha by the shoulders. He shakes the bewildered Knight, babbling loudly, until a quiet voice behind them interrupts.

“Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou freezes. He releases Konoha, who quietly slips back up the stairs, saying something about not being awake enough to be involved in a lover’s quarrel. Slowly, he turns around, and sucks in a breath. Akaashi stands there, dark smudges under his eyes, but holding himself as tall as always. Against the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, his eyes are a pale grey, so light they look almost translucent.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says again, and Koutarou steps closer without a conscious thought. “I’ve already showed them the music box. I’ve told them the same story I told you.”

Koutarou’s voice is small when he says, “Are you leaving?”

Their gazes meet, and it’s silent for a moment. If Koutarou tries hard enough, he can pretend they are both back at his shop, just the two of them, just sharing stories, with no need for anything to change. But then Akaashi opens his mouth, and the moment is shattered.

“Yes. Tomorrow. The Knights will take me to the Castle.” Akaashi presses his lips together briefly. He seems to be debating with himself, before his expression smoothes out again. He takes a step forwards, then another, and another, until he’s right in front of Koutarou. “I’m sorry, Boku... Koutarou-san. I’d have liked to have more time with you. Your company is something I will really miss.”

The tightness in Koutarou’s chest becomes even more prominent, and he’s struggling to catch his own breath again. He watches Akaashi’s hand reach for his, only to stop halfway. 

“Take me with you.”

Grey eyes flick up to meet gold ones, surprised. 

“Take me with you,” Koutarou repeats. He reaches out and takes hold of Akaashi’s hands, holding them tight. “You have to leave, but I don’t have to stay. Let me go with you, to see the King, and then after that, wherever you want to go. Let me follow you. Show me the places you tell me stories about.”  _ I want to see the scenery from those memories with my own eyes.  _

“But... your shop---?”

“Kuroo can watch it. I haven’t had a lot of business lately anyway, I can still Tinker even if I’m travelling. I want to go everywhere with you.”

He doesn’t say,  _ Please don’t leave me behind.  _ He doesn’t say,  _ I’ve waited my whole life for you. _

Instead, he just says, “Take me with you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi doesn’t reply for a few heartbeats. Then, slowly, as if a flower unfurling its petals, a smile blooms on Akaashi’s face. “Of course,” he says. 

“Let’s go on an adventure, Koutarou-san.”

And the tightness in Koutarou’s chest finally loosens. 

 

 

 

 

_ {to be continued...} _

**Author's Note:**

> .........yes there will be a sequel some time in the future ft. travelling magic volleyowls and maybe it'll become a series where there will be oneshots ft. various other magic volleykids........ some day,,
> 
> pls come cry about bokuaka with me on tumblr or twitter [@puddingcatbae](http://puddingcatbae.tumblr.com/)!!


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